His Nasty Little Pussy

BRADY

I pinched the bridge of my nose, attempting to block out Rich’s litany of concerns. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I glanced up, staring out of

the glass walls that lined the fiftieth-floor office space. “… no way this will go well, mark my words, Brady.” His favorite line: mark my words.

“Are you done?” I asked, lifting my eyebrows.

Rich glanced up from the paperwork on his desk, the contractual agreement he’d written up for my business dealings with Tess and Perkins Formula. “Brady, I’m just looking out for you, man. You approached the owner of a failing company to market a product that isn’t selling.”

Pursing my lips, I spun on my heel. “What’s your rent on this space again?”

“Huh?”

“Rent,” I repeated, my finger rolling around, pointing at the room. “How much?”

Rich sighed, leaning back into his chair, and tossed his pen across the desk. “I don’t pay rent.”

“Oh, that’s right,” I nodded. “Because I bought you this office in cash.” He leaned forward. “Brady…I get it. Tess is hot. She won that award. Hell, her product is good. Maybe it has potential. But we don’t make decisions based on potential.”

“There is no ‘we’ here,” I said. “I make the decisions for my company.

And you’re wrong. I do make those decisions based on potential. Every single day. That’s how it got me where I am today.”

“You make decisions based on proof of potential. Products that are already selling. And that’s not happening for Tess. Not only that, you offered her a fifty-fifty split with no upfront starting fee. It would be one thing if you went anonymous on this, but you’re attaching your name to something that could fail. My professional opinion is that this isn’t a good investment.”

I sighed, slipping my hand into my pocket as I glanced out at the view.

The sun dipped over Central Park, shifting the tips of the trees to orange and flooding the room with warmth. It was a stark contrast to the modern decoration; blindingly white tiles, a marble desk, an impressionist painting of a yellow line that Rich had shelled out forty grand to hang on his wall.

“Remember when I hired you? Eager and bright, right out of law school. Your first client. Your only client.”

Rich licked his lips. “Are we taking a stroll down memory lane?”

“You insisted you didn’t want to work with the lackeys in your firm in midtown. So I paid a fucking north of millions to purchase you an office space overlooking Central Park. Because you said, and I quote, ‘the trees relax me.'” I snorted. “As if your job tailing me to events and then fucking the women I don’t want is so stressful. You know what’s a bad investment?” I asked. “This office was a bad investment.”

“All right,” Rich said. “I’ll drop it. It’s your company, Brady. I’m just trying to advise you.”

“I needed a contract,” I said. “That’s what I pay you for. If I wanted advice, I’d pay a shrink.”

“All right, buddy,” Rich said.

“And you’re right,” I said. “Her product does have potential. Damn good potential. I got to where I am today because I know which products and people have worth and potential.”

He leaned forward. “I just don’t want to see you make the same mistake that you did with Lori.”

I rolled my eyes. “Lori’s product failed because she misrepresented it. Not only was it defective, but she advertised it as composed of vegan ingredients. It did not. That failure had nothing to do with our relationship.”

“A relationship you started after taking her on,” Rich said. “I’m just repeating your words back to you, Brady. Sex and business don’t mix.” “Well, you don’t have to worry about that,” I said.

Rich’s eyebrows furrowed. “You fucked her in the dressing room, didn’t you?”

“Better sooner than later,” I said. “Get the sexual tension out of the way.”

Rich sighed, shaking his head. “It’s your life, Brady. I’m just trying to protect you from another Lori situation.”

“Lori wanted me for my name. My reputation. Tess isn’t like that.” “How do you know?” Rich asked.

“Because when we fucked, she didn’t know who I was,” I hissed.

Rich’s eyes darted around the room. “I’m not following. You gave her the award that night.”

“Yeah, but I met her before that.”

“Where?” Rich asked. His eyes widened in realization. “Noooo…she was the airplane girl?” He threw his head back and cackled. “Brother, your life is a piece of work!”

My phone vibrated, and I glanced at the text from my sister, Brooke.

Dad’s gonna love this. She followed the text with an upside-down smiley face, and I immediately read the sarcasm in her tone.

My stomach dropped at her sarcasm.

A second later, she texted a link to an online article. The photo on the front showed me arm in arm with a skinny brunette, a model whose name I couldn’t recall. We’d spent a weekend together in Greece nearly three months ago.

I glanced at the headline.

Brady Wyler: Genius CEO or Billionaire Playboy?

I wasn’t surprised by it. The trashy gossip magazines loved jumping at any opportunity of ruining my reputation. I didn’t care, but my family did, and putting out these bush fires every other day was turning into a second job.

I grabbed the contracts off Rich’s desk. “I’ll be in touch.” “You got it,” Rich said with a shake of his head.

I headed toward the door, Rich’s laughter fading in the distance as I reached the stairwell.

I called my sister, Brooke, and she answered on the second ring.

“You see it?” she asked. “I could hear the shrill of conversation in the background, my mother’s laughter echoing, the party in full swing. “Yeah,” I sighed. “Nothing new. Has dad read it?”

“Of course he has,” Brooke said. “Honestly, I think he signed up with the magazine just so he could catch the articles as soon as they come out.” “Wouldn’t surprise me,” I whispered.

“Are you still coming to the party? You know it started at seven.”

“I know, I know,” I said. “I’m running late.”

“Well, that much is obvious,” she whispered. “But dad’s annoyance is definitely starting to show.”

“Oh God,” I groaned, leaning against the railing. “Has he started on his rampages yet?”

“You know it,” Brooke answered with a laugh. “Same old, same old. ‘Brady is never getting married…,’ ‘Brady’s the only CEO I know with no ability to settle down…,’ ‘According to page six….'”

“Yeah, well, not all of us find their Matt’s of the world when they’re twenty-something.”

“Let’s be honest, Brady, you don’t want what I have,” Brooke said. “I love Matt, but marriage is no joke. It’s hard work.”

“Then why do it?”

“Because it’s worth it,” Brooke said. “Anyways, just prepare yourself for the barrage of questions. Mom still asks about Lori every little chance she gets.”

I rolled my eyes. “We’ve been broken up for four years. They just need to accept that I’m going to remain single. It’s who I am.”

She snorted. “Yeah, because mom and dad are adept at accepting us for who we are. Good luck with that. Just hurry up and get here so that I don’t have to suffer this night alone.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.”

“With or without a model on your hip? Might save you some stress if you bring a date.”

An idea struck me, and I wondered if it was a mistake. Probably. But maybe not. Either way, it was worth a shot. I didn’t consider myself a gambling man for nothing.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” I said.

I darted up the stairwell to the helipad on the roof. Although I’d told Rich that buying the office was a bad investment, in reality, owning the space allowed me unrestricted access to the helipad on the roof. I didn’t so much question the investment of the property as much I questioned the investment in hiring Rich.

Still, after ten years, I kept him on, mainly because his cut-throat personality meant he was a damn good lawyer.

I emerged onto the rooftop just as my helicopter landed. As my pilot stepped out and opened the back door for me, I darted across the helipad, ducking beneath the rotors. “Evening, Mr. Wyler.”

“How you doin’ George?”

“Should we head to your parents?”

“Mind if we make a pit stop first?”

One of the perks of having money was the ability to hire people who could take care of the day-to-day aspects of life I dreaded. Laundry, dishes, cooking, cleaning. My maid and chef were invaluable assets, but my assistant was by far the best investment.

Cal was a twenty-four-year-old gay man with exquisite taste and fascinating ability to multi-task that rivaled anyone I’d ever met. He also never questioned my requests. On the contrary, he seemed enthralled by the challenge of an elaborate task.

Cal answered his phone so fast it didn’t even ring once.

“Mr. Wyler, how can I help you?”

“Have you left to bring my suit to the gallery yet?”

“I’m at the dress shop now. I’m not late, am I? Oh no, am I late?” “No,” I chuckled. “You’re good. But I have a challenge for you.” “Oh, do tell,” he said, his voice becoming high-pitched.

“How’s your taste in women’s clothes? Specifically evening gowns?”

“Oh, honey,” Cal said. “I may play for the opposite team, but I have three sisters and a major addiction to Vogue. What size?”

“About five-eight, athletic, C-cup.”

“Got it,” Cal said. “And here I was, thinking you would give me something challenging to work with.”

“Oh, I’m not done yet,” I said to him. “One sec.” I lowered my phone. “George, how long will it take us to get to 243 Rockter street?”

George checked something on the GPS and then twisted around. “The closest helipad is about thirty minutes away. And the street is about ten from there.”

“No, I mean, the actual street,” I said.

“About thirty-five minutes or so. But to land on the street, the road will need to be blocked off.”

I lifted the phone back up to my ear. “Cal, I need you to call the Sheriff’s office, non-emergency line. Give them my name, ask for chief Marty King. Tell him we need the 200 block of Rockter Street blocked off. If he gives you any trouble, tell him I still have the video from Vegas from March of last year. He’ll know what I’m talking about. If you can get that done in half an hour, I’ll give you a three grand bonus for the week.”

Cal laughed. “Oh, don’t you worry, Mr. Wyler, they don’t call me Speedy McGreedy for nothing.”

“Who calls you that? Not your boyfriend, I hope?” I could hear him pressing numbers and knew he was using his second phone to call the chief at the Sheriff’s office.

“How adorable that you think that I’m attached to one single man,” Cal said. “New York is way too big a city for that.”

I laughed. “I’ll get your funds ready.”

I took pleasure in my ability to get things done exactly how I wanted them done. But while money always spoke louder than words, I knew part of my success in this department depended on the people I hired. After much trial and error, I prided myself in my power of weeding out those who claimed they could do the job from those who not actually accomplished my desires but excelled at making them happen.

Cal was easily the best assistant I’d ever had-and George the best pilot.

The combination of the two meant that in half an hour, the helicopter was hovering over Rockter Street in Queens, which happened to be an unusually rare wide street in this neighborhood. Two police barricades had been erected on either end of the street.

I glanced out of the window as we descended. Pedestrians paused, necks craned back as they pointed up at the chopper, heads hanging outside windows. I smiled as I watched the authorities redirect traffic. Marty’s Vegas guilt was running strong.

We landed in the center of the road beside a line of red brick townhouses bordering the street. Not only was George’s landing effortless, but his precision was perfect. We parked right outside 243, the home of Mr. Jay Perkins.

“I’ll be right back, George.”

“Sounds good, Mr. Wyler.”Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

I stepped out of the chopper and darted across the street.

To my delight, Cal had already arrived. He was standing on the corner, holding two garment bags, one with my tuxedo and another with the dress he’d picked out for Tess.

“You’re something else,” I said to Cal.

He grinned and shrugged. “Speedy McGreedy to the rescue.”

I shook my head with a laugh. “Hold onto those for just one second.”

I hopped up the steps to Tess’s dad’s house and knocked on the door thrice.

Tess answered within a minute.

“Brady…what the hell are you doing here?” Her eyes scurried past me.

“Why is there a fucking helicopter on my street?”

I shrugged, flashing her the contract. “Got our contract.”

“And you thought you’d hand-deliver it by chopper? You could have just mailed or emailed it like a normal person.”

Her eyes landed on Cal, and he grinned. “Oh, girl, you’re going to look great in what I picked out for you.”

“Picked out for me?” Her eyes bolted back to me. “Brady…what’s going on?”

“Hear me out. I figured…if we’re going to be partners, then you get all the perks that come with knowing me. Which includes free helicopter rides

uptown for fancy events hosted by the mayor.”

She gulped. “Say what?”

I grinned. “All I need is for you to say yes.”